


The Thin Line Between Love And Laughter

by PracticallyIJ



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: M/M, Outrageous Flirting, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PracticallyIJ/pseuds/PracticallyIJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Q has been very much the oblivious idiot about both his own and Sal's feelings, despite it all being right there in front of him. It only takes one moment for his whole perspective to shift.<br/>Rated M for adult language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thin Line Between Love And Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> This one is so ridiculously fluffy that you may find butterflies spontaneously generating in your stomach, and then exploding out of there like chest bursters. You have been warned. Enjoy!

“Laughter is the shortest distance between two people.”   
                ― Victor Borge

For as long as he could remember, Sal's laughter had been a near-permanent fixture in Q's life. It had been a warm companion in his happiest times, and a blinding beacon, a light at the end of the tunnel in his darkest, most hopeless moments. He had memories - of times where Sal had laughed and instantly made his world a better place - that he would treasure forever. They were shining worn old things that he would take out from a corner of his mind when he felt like nothing was okay, and examine them all until his hope returned.

In high school one wet, dreary lunchtime, Murr slipped on a dropped bit of pastry and landed straight on his ass, and Sal laughed so hard he cried, and almost fell off his seat, grabbing onto Q, who was helpless to stop himself from joining in. He held Sal up as the guy went totally limp with laughter, and wondered at his friend's ability to lose himself so totally to his emotions.

At college, during a tediously long lecture, Sal dared Joe, as he was walking out to go to the bathroom, to nose their history professor - and he did. The professor looked back mid-sentence at a nonchalant looking Joe, a bemused expression on his face. Q watched in delight and amusement as Sal fell apart, laughing breathlessly and silently, clutching at Q's arm and tears streaming from his eyes.  

A few years later, they were working on a Tenderloins sketch for their YouTube channel. Q was trying not to let his depression get the best of him that day, and Sal, already totally wired on coffee, turned to Q with barely checked laughter, and said, "D'ya think in Australia they go _up_ on each other?" and burst into fits of loud, hearty laughter. Q had just stood there for a moment, trying to work out what that even _meant_... and then, purely because it was so fucking infectious, he joined in, throwing his head back and slapping one hand on Sal's back as the other man was doubled over.

There were countless memories like that, each one unique and special. They kept Q warm at night, made him happier than he sometimes felt he deserved. Those memories built up over time, and he carefully tucked every single one in that little corner of his mind, folding them away like precious little notes.

******

Eventually there came a day - a single moment - where, long years after Sal and his laughter had first become one of the most significant things in Q's life, he suddenly perceived that something had changed. The four of them were filming a season four punishment - Joe, dressed as Captain Fatbelly, had to ride the top of a Roosevelt Island aerial tramcar, which the other three Jokers were inside of. Sal, predictably, was already freaking out, holding on tight to a rail with one hand and to Q with another. Murr, after anxiously scrabbling for something to grab onto, took the mic and instructed Joe to yell to anyone who wasn't a Staten Islander to 'suck it'.

Two minutes later, the situation had escalated to the point where Joe was now thrusting rudely at an adjacent car, shouting, "Suck it! Suck it!" repeatedly, getting faster and more emphatic. Q suddenly felt Sal grabbing at him, then going down like a ton of bricks. Still laughing at Joe, he gazed down at Sal, and his breath caught in his chest. His best friend was lying on the floor, convulsing with laughter. His face was all scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut and mouth in a wide, unselfconscious grin, and he was clutching at his arm with twitching fingers. He had totally lost control, something that he took care never to happen - and Q realised two things simultaneously: that Sal had never looked or sounded more beautiful, and that he had just fallen in love.

He looked away abruptly, his heart pounding and his cheeks warming up. _Fuck! I'm in love with Sal!_ This epiphany brought with it a confusing mix of feelings that Q was just not ready to deal with right away, if at all. Mindful of the cameras, then, he focused on the task at hand as Sal got up from the floor, chest heaving for breath, still choking back giggles. He leaned on Q for a moment as he got his breath back, and Q found himself, almost against his own will, inhaling Sal's scent - clean linen, coffee, and strawberry shampoo. It smelt familiar and comforting, and it made Q's stomach hurt. He willed himself to ignore it and get through the rest of the shoot.

Eventually they wrapped up the punishment, and after getting off the tramway and saying goodbye to Joe and Murr, Q and Sal headed home together, filling the companionable silences with laughter and conversation about unimportant shit. If Sal noticed that Q was a little distracted, he didn’t mention it, although every so often Q could feel the other man's eyes on the side of his head. The drive home passed pleasantly, though, and eventually, they pulled up outside Sal's house.

"Well, here we are, buddy. See ya tomorrow?" Q looked over at Sal and smiled, watching as his friend took his seatbelt off, stretched, and glanced back at him with an answering smile.

"Shit, Quinn, I'm wiped. God, I've never laughed like that in my _life_." Right on cue, a little laugh escaped Sal - he was clearly remembering the events of earlier. "Okay, bud, tomorrow. We got a couple days off, right? So call me and we'll plan something." They hugged briefly and he got out of the car, still chuckling a little. Then he waved goodbye before entering his house, leaving Q with a fading smell of coffee and clean linen, and the sound of gentle laughter echoing in his ears.

******

Q shut his front door and threw his keys on the table in the hallway. Walking through to the kitchen, he got out a glass and a bottle of bourbon, poured himself a good measure, then headed to the living room where he flopped down on the sofa and took a big sip, wincing a little at the burn in his throat. Swirling his drink around in his glass, he frowned down at it, unsure where to begin sorting out this tangle of emotions and thoughts inside him. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he drained the glass and poured himself another.

Half an hour or so later, everything felt a little softer around the edges, and he allowed himself to consider Sal, and his feelings, and all the implications that came with his realisation. So he’d fallen in love with his best friend in the whole world today. That was... a thing that had happened. It was odd, he’d always thought that love - _falling in love -_ was a slow thing, a process, and yet this felt like he’d been struck by fucking lightning. One second he was looking at Sal a certain way, and the next it was as if the world had moved a few degrees to the left, and suddenly his perception of everything had changed. Had Sal felt it? Had the others? How could they not have, how could all of Earth not have, when it felt as though the entire universe had undergone a massive seismic shift?

Q shook his head. _Holy fuck..._ _I’ve fallen in love with Sal._ It had happened so suddenly, it was hard to wrap his head around. He had known his closest friend for over twenty years. If he was gonna fall in love with him, why not at any point in the last _two fucking decades?_ Why now? Mulling that question over, he lay back on the sofa, feet up. Half a minute later, he sat up, remembering all the times Sal had laughed so hard he’d cried, or fallen, or been unable to breathe. He remembered all the times that the memory of that laughter - and the promise of more laughter to come - had kept him alive through his worst times.

Then suddenly, from one second to the next, he knew deep in his bones what had happened - he’d fallen for Sal’s laugh alone a long time ago. It had just taken him a long time to fall in love with the rest of him. He thought he knew why it had happened today of all days, though - Sal truly had laughed harder than Q had ever seen him laugh before, and he’d observed in the split second of his personal revelation that what was most beautiful about Sal was that he gave all of himself to his laughter. He laughed with all of his body and heart and soul, and it was selfless, contagious and induced a helpless sort of joy in Q. He wanted to listen to that laugh for the rest of his days, wanted it to be his morning and his night, his _own_ to make happen whenever he could _._ And he wanted the man it belonged to - he wanted Sal, to wake up and go to sleep beside, to treasure and take care of like the memories that had kept him alive, to fucking _adore,_ for as long as he could manage... and longer if he could.

Then a thought popped, unwanted, into his head: _Shit, he probably doesn't feel the same._ He felt cold all over. Dragging his hands down his face, he got up and went to the kitchen with the bottle and glass. He wanted really badly, suddenly, to get so wasted he couldn't even think any more, and with that feeling nagging at him, he put the bourbon away out of sight so that he wouldn't. Sal hated it when he got drunk alone, and that asshole somehow always _knew_. Heading to his bedroom, he stripped to his boxers and threw himself down on his bed, thinking. So what if Sal didn't love him back? They were still best friends, and they would still spend most of their time together. Sal still loved him in a way that mattered, and Q could be okay with that. After all, nothing had changed except his feelings. And as he drifted off, worn out, he sleepily resolved to make Sal laugh as much as he could from then on. If he could have nothing else, he could at least have that.

******

"Q! Hey, bud!" Sal sounded in pretty high spirits, immediately lifting Q's own. "So what are we doin' today?" It was late morning, and after a lie-in and a long shower - during which he had guiltily jerked off thinking of Sal - Q had called up his best friend.

"Uhh, well since it's a day off I thought nothin' too huge, maybe just hang out at yours or mine?"

Sal didn't even hesitate. "That's cool. Come round to mine? Hey, we can play on the Wii. I'll totally kick your ass at bowling."

Q snorted. "Sure, buddy, if 'kick your ass' means 'get more gutterballs than a three year old'. See you in thirty." He ended the call and went to feed the cats, smiling to himself.

******

Half an hour later, Q rang Sal's doorbell and listened to the answering yell of "coming!", and the sound of approaching footsteps. A moment later, the door opened, and Sal stood there. He was wearing his 'off day' clothes - sweatpants and his favourite old t-shirt - and his hair was free of gel, looking wavy and soft. He was wearing his glasses. Q had often noticed that Sal's eyes seemed to change colour with day, mood, lighting, and today they were his favourite, a clear, tranquil green. Sal smiled, dimple showing and eyes crinkling, and Q thought all the oxygen must have suddenly fucked off somewhere because he couldn't breathe.

"Hey! Come in, buddy. Coffee?"

"God, yes please. Did I ever tell you that you make the best coffee?"

As he followed Sal to the living room, Sal looked back over his shoulder, smirking. "Only, like, a hundred times a week. Jeez, anyone would think you only loved me for my coffee."

At that, Q stopped dead, his mouth opening and then closing again. _No, I love everything about you_ , he wanted to say. _Do you know? Do you know how I really feel?_ He wanted to say that too. But Sal was only joking, so instead he grinned. "Well, I guess you have a nice ass too."

Sal laughed, blushing a little, and walked into the kitchen. "Shut up, you idiot. Hey, set the Wii up while I'm doin' this, would ya? No point you just sitting there lookin' pretty."

This time it was Q's turn to blush. He should be used to this - they had a very long history of mock flirting, sometimes to annoy their friends, sometimes to amuse themselves, but mostly just because that was how their friendship worked. Neither of them were so insecure in their sexuality that they felt weird about it, and although Q had always considered himself straight, he now realised it felt... right, somehow, that if he'd ended up with any exception to that, it would be Sal. As he turned on the TV and set up the console, he found himself wondering about Sal. He'd never given his friend's preferences much thought, just assuming that he was into women. _God knows I'm not the most observant person._ But, then, Sal had never corrected that assumption, so he probably was straight. Q wished... he wished a lot of things, but mostly right now, he wished for false hope to fuck off out of this situation.

Suddenly, he was brought out of his musings by Sal pushing a mug into his hands. "Penny for your thoughts?" He asked, sitting on the sofa and taking a sip of his coffee. He crossed his legs underneath him, giving Q the impression of a pixie. It was really fucking cute.

"Ahh, nothin' important." Q got up from in front of the TV and sat down next to Sal, blowing on his coffee as he did. It smelled good, the fragrance reminding him, as it always did, of the guy sitting close enough next to him for their arms to be touching. "Just thinkin' about stupid stuff, I guess. Ya know how it is." He smiled disarmingly at Sal, who just squinted suspiciously back.

"Well, okay. But you know I know when you're not telling me something."

"Yeah, and _you_ know I know you know." Q deflected, feeling suddenly immature.

"God, let's not get started on that. It turns into a competition and we'll be here all day." Putting his mug down on the coffee table, Sal stood up and cracked his knuckles dramatically. "Ready to kiss my ass when I walk all over you, bud?"

Q rolled his eyes, took a gulp of coffee, and got up too. "Oh, you talk a big game, Vulcano, but I think it will be you who will be doing all the kissin’ today."

Sal smiled slyly and winked as it dawned on Q exactly what he'd just said. "Kissing, huh? Well, okay." He threw a controller to Q, who, in his embarrassment, almost dropped it. "I guess I wouldn't mind losin' if it was just kissing in general."

Q couldn't help it. He blushed from his neck to his hairline.

******

One hour, two tied games of bowling, and an entire pot of really good, strong coffee between them later, Sal was on the floor, clutching at his sides as he laughed helplessly. Q had gone to have his turn, and just as he’d thrust his hand behind him to bowl, the remote had shot out of his hand and hit a lamp behind him.

He’d turned to look at Sal, who had stared at him a moment, then pointed at his face and collapsed into giggles. He rolled off the sofa and thumped on the floor with an "oof!", which made him laugh even harder. Q just stood there, hand on hip, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, completely unable to keep a smile off his face at Sal's reaction.

"Dude, it wasn't _that_ funny."

"It was your face! You looked so surprised!" Sal choked out in between near-hysterical gasps. "You were like... where did it go?" He attempted an imitation of what Q assumed was supposed to be his facial expression, but lost his shit again. He laughed for a good minute after that. Q just watched him, smiling, feeling incredibly fortunate to be able to make Sal laugh like this. He committed the moment to memory, fixed in his mind how Sal looked right now: untroubled, almost childlike, absolutely _gorgeous_ in his uninhibited mirth. Q wanted to kiss him so bad.

Finally Sal calmed down, and wiping his eyes, he got up from the floor. "God... okay, I'm cool. Have your turn, bud. Try not to destroy my shit this time?"

Q picked the controller up from where it had landed, righted the lamp, and then took his turn. He got a spare. Then Sal took his turn and got a gutterball. And then another gutterball. In fact, for the rest of the game, Sal either hit the corner of the pins or the gutter. Q was really puzzled - Sal had pretty great hand eye coordination, and could bowl a 180 on a bad day. Then he reasoned that maybe it was that laughing fit that had thrown him off. It didn’t matter anyway, because Q had won, so all of Sal's bragging and gloating had come back to bite the guy on the ass.

Sal threw his hands up and turned to Q, grinning. "Well, I lost. Damn, I guess I'm just way off my game today."

"Told ya so, bud. That's what happens when you start bullshittin' and showboating." Q got up off the sofa, stretching, and slapped Sal on the shoulder. "So what do we do now, Sally?"

"Well..." Putting his hands behind his back and rocking back and forth on his heels, Sal bit his lip and smirked a little, "I lost, so doesn't that mean I gotta kiss you now?"

Q's brain shut down and he opened his mouth to speak, only for an incoherent, mangled "w-what? Kissing? I don't..." to come out. He closed his mouth again as his ability to talk at all failed him.

“Don’t you remember? You said if I lost, I’d be the one doin’ all the _kissing_. So…” Sal shrugged, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“But… that’s not… what I meant to say was…”

Sal’s eyes softened a little and he sighed, and Q had the sudden guilty feeling that he’d disappointed him somehow. Then it passed, and he laughed. “I know what you meant, Quinn, I was just teasin'.”

“Ah jeez. Sorry, Sal. You know me, I’m an idiot.” Q felt really fucking embarrassed. _What an asshole._

Sal put a hand on Q’s shoulder. “No you’re not. Your head’s obviously just somewhere else today, bud. Seriously, if you wanna talk, I’m always here to listen.”

Q thought dryly that this wasn’t something Sal could really help with, but he appreciated it all the same. “Thanks, man.”

Nodding, Sal thought for a moment, and then his face brightened. “Hey, why don’t we play archery? I think I have some nunchucks somewhere. And I’ll _definitely_ kick your ass at that…”

******

After Sal really _did_ kick Q’s ass at archery, they both got bored of playing on the Wii and decided to have a Lord of the Rings extended edition movie marathon - or at least watch as much as they could before the next day, at least. By nine that evening, they had gotten through all of Fellowship, and just forty five minutes of Two Towers, owing to the fact that they had to eat and Q had to go home briefly to see to his cats. By eleven, they had both crashed hard and if it wasn’t for the fact that Q knew these fucking films line for line, scene for scene by now, he would have no idea what was going on. Sal was already fast asleep, his head resting on Q’s shoulder and body curled up against him. He was breathing deeply and evenly, which Q found soothing. He sighed and shifted to lean his head on Sal’s, noting drowsily how soft his best friend’s hair really was. He closed his eyes. _I’ll just listen to the movie…_

The last thing he remembered was the strawberry smell of Sal’s hair filling his nose.

******

Slowly, reluctantly, Q woke up. He opened his eyes, squinting at the crack of sunlight through the curtains. Disoriented and still only half-conscious, he tried to work out where he was, then became aware of a warm, solid weight by his side. Abruptly the previous evening came back to him, and he realised what had happened. They had fallen asleep on the sofa together - and must have moved to a comfier position in the night - because they were both lying stretched out next to each other. Sal’s face was buried in Q’s chest, and he was making little snuffling noises in his sleep. At some point, Sal had wrapped an arm tight around Q’s waist, and in turn, he had slung his arm protectively over Sal, a hand on his back. Oh shit, they were _cuddling._ Q’s heart started thumping and his thoughts began racing. He’d never felt more content - this was all he’d wanted and so much more than he’d hoped - but what if Sal woke up and realised what was happening? What if he freaked out? Was he taking advantage of Sal because he was in love with him and therefore taking more than the guy might be prepared to offer? Because Sal didn’t even know what was going on right now. Was it selfish of him, that he didn’t want to move or let this moment end?

Suddenly, Sal let out a tiny laugh in his sleep. Forgetting all his anxieties, Q’s heart skipped a beat, his stomach fluttering painfully. He couldn’t resist. Slowly and carefully, he shuffled back a little, so he could see Sal's face, and bent his head, lightly touching his lips to his forehead, closing his eyes and letting the kiss linger for a second or two before moving his head back. Then he decided right there to fuck the consequences - he was staying where he was. And he didn’t wanna wake Sal up anyway, he looked way too peaceful, and just fucking _adorable._ So he remained, concentrating all of his attention on the sleeping man nestled into the curve of his body. If Sal was adorable when awake, he was painfully endearing when asleep. The anxious hyper-alertness usually perceptible in his face was gone, replaced by a smooth stillness. His cheeks were warm and flushed, each breath coming soft and steady, and every so often the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, making Q wonder what he was dreaming of. Watching Sal sleep made Q suddenly feel fiercely protective of him, and he tightened his hold on him a little, making a silent vow that whatever may or may not happen between them, he would _always_ fucking be there for Sal, as Sal had been for him all these years. He lost count of how many minutes he lay there, watching his best friend sleep, and lost himself in an overwhelming feeling of well-being and tender affection, unable to recall the last time he’d felt this way about anybody.

Eventually, Sal began to stir, mumbling a little and eyelids fluttering, and Q tensed up, preparing for the inevitable freak out. He watched nervously as Sal opened his eyes, blinked a couple times, frowning, then looked up at him. To Q's surprise, he didn't move, and a sleepy smile spread across his face. "Hey." He murmured, voice scratchy and low.

"Hey," echoed Q, smiling fondly. "So, I guess we fell asleep last night, huh, buddy?"

"I guess so. God, the last thing I remember is Merry and Pippin nearly being crushed to death by the Ent."

"The last thing I remember was..." Q tried to end the sentence with something that wasn't 'thinking you smelled really great'. "Uhh, oh jeez, the dead people in the creepy fuckin' marshes."

"Oh man, that bit is scary." Sal fell silent, and a second later, he briefly buried his face in Q’s chest again, yawning. Neither of them made any attempt to move. After a moment, Sal looked again at Q, smiling slightly. "You're comfortable to lie with, dude. I almost don't wanna move."

Q felt himself reddening, and defensively fell back on flirting. "Well, I'd love to lie here all day starin' at your gorgeous face, buddy, but for one, we gotta eat, and for another, I really gotta pee."

Sal pouted, but took his arm from around Q's waist, then sat up, yawned again and stretched. "Fiiiine. I _was_ warm and comfortable, but you go ahead and leave me for the bathroom. I'll put the coffee on."

Laughing and shaking his head, Q got up and went to the bathroom, feeling oddly cold and bereft down the line of his body where Sal had slept against him. When he was done, he walked into the kitchen, taking in the smell of brewing coffee. Sal turned around, leaning on the counter. "Breakfast?"

"You're gonna cook for me?"

"I learned how to make pancakes a couple months ago." He started going through his cupboards.

Q actually felt touched. He also felt really weird - this morning had started off with them waking up cuddled on the sofa, and now Sal, who never cooked, was offering to make him breakfast? It all felt so oddly intimate, and Q began to wonder if his feelings were the only thing that had changed, or if the dynamic of their friendship was shifting somehow into something else, something deeper. Then again, he rationalised, maybe his best friend had always been like this, and he was only just now noticing because he'd changed how he looked at him.

They chatted as Sal cooked, about the show, the podcast, about stupid shit like what would happen to the gravity of earth if you put all the heaviest animals in the world stacked up in one square metre - Sal thought nothing would happen, Q adamantly maintained that it would do something to the orbit. Sal laughed at him, dimple flashing and eyebrows raised, and Q, an abiding sense of bliss rising from deep within him, joined in.

Eventually, breakfast was served. Sal had made a decent looking meal - pancakes with blueberry syrup and fruit, and coffee. Q looked across the table at him. "I can't believe you still remember my favourite syrup flavour. When the fuck did I tell you that, like once? Ten years ago?"

"Eh, I've got a good memory for shit like that. It's nothin', really." Sal looked at Q and smiled, almost shyly. Then he looked away, back at his pancakes, leaving Q to feel inexplicably flustered.

******

Half an hour or so later, with breakfast out of the way, and dishes washed, Sal and Q were sitting on the sofa, watching reruns of Jerry Springer. Sal was cracking jokes about the guests on each segment and making himself laugh, while Q just watched on with affectionate amusement. Then he looked at his watch. "Oh shit, the cats!"

Sal's eyes got all round and wide. "You forgot about your cats? Fuck, you really _are_ distracted lately. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I promise. Look, I gotta go, bud." He stood up and turned to Sal, smiling. "Thanks for breakfast, man. I had an awesome day yesterday, too." He followed Sal to the hall, put his coat and shoes on, and opened the front door.

Sal pulled him into a hug. "See ya tomorrow, then, I guess."

"Can't wait." Q stepped onto the front step, turned, and then, without even thinking what he was doing - before he could stop himself - he leaned over the threshold and planted a kiss on the corner of Sal's mouth. Sal gasped and blushed to the tips of his ears, two fingers touching the spot where Q's lips had just been.

Q wanted to set fire to himself. "Fuck. _Fuck_. Uh. I'm sorry, oh God, please forget I did that. Shit, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" It all came out in a big, jumbled rush as he backed away. He didn't dare look at Sal's expression, so he turned and almost ran to his car, hands shaking as he started the engine and drove away. _What have I done?_

******

_“Q, this is Sal. Call me back, okay? I gotta talk to you.”_

_“It’s me again. Call me. We really need to talk.”_

_“Quinn, I’m serious. Fucking call me! You can’t ignore me forever - we work together, you asshole! Stop fuckin' around! And so help me God, if you’re getting tanked on your own over there-”_

_“...Q... Brian. Please call me back... please. I just - I gotta talk to you, bud, and I can’t do this over the phone. Jeez, you’re an idiot. I’m an idiot. Look… I get that when you do shit you regret, you wanna hide forever... but this isn’t somethin’ you can hide from, buddy. I dunno. I-I… fuck.”_

******

Sal had good timing - Q’s cell had started ringing the moment he got in his front door. So far, it had rung about twenty five times since then, and each time afterwards there had been a new voicemail. He had listened to none of them, instead choosing to bury himself under his blankets like a child, and close his eyes to try to block out both the world and his stupid fucking mistakes.

It had been an hour since he’d kissed Sal, and he still felt no different: burning humiliation, horrified self-loathing, and terror that he had fucked up one of the best friendships he had ever had. So he felt he could be forgiven for not answering his cell - he couldn’t bear to hear his closest friend tell him what he already knew: that he didn’t feel the same, that he’d made it awkward, that nothing would be the same any more. He wasn’t stupid - he couldn’t hide forever. He still had to work with the guy after all - but he’d always been good at maintaining a professional distance if he needed to. Still, for today at least, he was going to hide from everyone.

Then, as if the cosmos had heard that last thought and wanted to send a giant middle finger, the doorbell rang. Q cursed and wished fervently for whoever the fuck it was to go away. It rang again, and then there was a knock, confirming Q’s suspicions. He sighed, uncurling himself and popping his head out from his covers. There was another knock. “Fuck, _okay_!” he groaned. He really did not want this confrontation to happen, ever. He supposed he should have realised Sal would come round. He’d sometimes given the guy cause to worry in the past. He walked to the door, fear twisting his stomach into knots and making him want to throw up, and opened it.

Sure enough, there stood Sal, anxiety and tension evident in every line of his body. He relaxed minutely when he saw Q. “Thank God! Can you stop going silent on me like that, Q? Fuck, you _know_ I get worried when people don’t answer their phone…”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Sal. I guess I panicked… You-you wanna come in?” Truth be told, Q was still panicking, but he stepped aside to let Sal in, and they headed to the living room, and sat on the sofa. Sal looked at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Q got there first. “Listen, Sal… I just really need to fuckin' apologise for what I did earlier. I had no right and I’m just… I’m really sorry, okay? And I just really don’t want this… my feelings for you... to ruin our friendship because it’s the most important fucking thing in the world to me, bud, it really is. Oh, God, I’m such an asshole.”

He waited, barely able to look at Sal. There was a moment of silence, then, to Q’s dazed bewilderment, a peal of unreserved laughter. Even in his confusion, it sounded like contentment and life and _home_. He dared to meet Sal’s eyes.

“Oh God, Q. I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you... no, that's a lie, I am laughing at you. You’re such an oblivious idiot sometimes!”

“W-What?”

Sal reached over and took Q’s hand, stroking it softly with his thumb. “I can’t believe… all this time and you never realised.” He shook his head and spoke gently, his eyes warm and fond. “Quinn, you gorgeous, stupid jerk, I’ve loved you for years.”

Q was dumbfounded. _Years_? “Holy fuck, I… I don’t-” Again, words failed him.

Sal laughed, low and affectionate. “I never thought you felt the same way. And then I saw the way you looked at me on the tramway the other day, and I hoped… and then I lost the bowling game on purpose and offered to kiss you, but you freaked out and I assumed I was wrong after all.” He bit his lip and ducked his head, looking up shyly at Q from under his eyelashes. “And then… we woke up next to each other and you seemed so happy. But I just wasn’t sure enough to take the risk.”

Q swallowed dryly, his head buzzing. He somehow dredged up the ability to talk from somewhere, and once he started he couldn't stop. “Sal… this is all so… I mean... I only realised how I feel about you on the tramcar, it just hit me out of nowhere, but - but I think I fell for a part of you years ago. Your laughter, Sal, it’s one of the most gorgeous things about you, and it’s kept me sane since I met you. And then the other day I realised that I fucking love all of you, every single part, and I wanna spend the rest of my life cherishing you and listenin' to you laugh and laughing with you." He thought for a moment, and laughed. "And I can't believe you threw that goddamn bowling game to try and get me to kiss you, you calculating bastard. You're breathtaking. I love you. _I fucking love you._ ”

The last few words were spoken breathlessly, emphatically, with a feeling of weightlessness and joy. Sal looked at him, tears in his eyes, the smile on his face bright and happy. He choked out a laugh, sounding emotional. “I’ve had dreams about this moment.” He leaned forward, cupping Q’s face with one hand, and their lips met. The kiss was sweet, almost chaste, and Q, closing his eyes, savoured every moment - the softness of Sal’s lips, the unfamiliar but surprisingly pleasant scratch of a beard against his, the way he tasted, so unique, and that mixture of scents that he knew so well: coffee, clean linen, strawberries.

All too soon, they broke apart, and Q pulled Sal into his arms, manoeuvring them into a lying position similar to the way they had woken up that morning. Arms around each other, they lay there, occasionally stealing kisses like teenagers. Eventually Q spoke up. “I guess now we _can_ stay like this for the rest of the day, huh, buddy?”

Sal just laughed, burying his face into Q’s shoulder. “Just try and fuckin' move me.”

 


End file.
